The Betrayal
by ICURAQT2
Summary: How does one recover from your brother and barely ex-girlfriend becoming lovers? Can you recover? This is a darker story than usual for me. M rated for sure. Stefan has anger and pain that are dealt with possibly in violent ways. Might be a bit OOC but an interesting fantasy I wanted to explore while getting in touch with my inner ripper/rage. (ONE SHOT)


_**TVD - The Betrayal – **__Oneshot, rated M_

_A/N – 409 – Stefan's finds out about Elena and Damon. As usual, I only own the story, my ideas, but the characters and TVD belong to others…darn… ;-) _

Caroline cringed as the chess pieces flew. She hadn't answered his question. Not directly. She couldn't. She was their friend, both of them, even if she didn't quite recognize Elena any more. But Stefan needed to know. It was the right thing to do. They needed to fix this, fix her, Elena needed fixing, now more than ever.

Stefan was seething, nearly blinded by rage and pain. His body felt like hardened steel only partly tempered, still brittle and breakable. His insides were like molten lava, like red hot steel trying desperately to break forth and hurt, burn, incinerate, in a tear-the-house-down kind of rage.

"AAAaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgghh!" he roared taking out a table and lamp and more.

Caroline didn't dare get any closer. Not yet. He was way too strong for her should he be so blinded as to direct his rage anywhere near her. She knew he wouldn't on purpose, but she was no fool as to the impact of the terrible news on her friend. She also knew more than enough about Stefan as the Ripper and held her breath hoping he wouldn't shut it all off to deal with the betrayal.

Suddenly, Stefan was back sitting on the couch, eerily still. He stared off at nothing as if in shock. They stayed quiet, sitting, Caroline mourning for her friend, Stefan seemingly slipping into a catatonic state. Eventually, Caroline got up to get a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He didn't move. She moved slowly and gently trying not to upset the uneasy calm in the room which may well have been temporary. She approached him slowly, joining him on the couch. She poured him a healthy amount of the smoky brown but sweet liquor and held his glass until he was ready to take it from her.

He slowly looked toward her, not quite consciously acknowledging her. Complete devastation was behind the anger. He looked so lost behind the rage that she almost wanted to hold his drink for him, put her arm around him and feed him the bourbon like one might hold a drink for a sick child. Finally his hand came and took the glass. He was still staring at Caroline, but not really at her, she was just there. The glass came down quickly, empty, held out for more. She filled it, even higher this time. Still staring in her direction, it was seconds, but in slow motion, until he finally realized she'd refilled his glass. He slowly faced forward again. He put the glass to his lips, paused before starting, and then drank it all down. This time, his hand brought the empty glass down to his lap. She waited to pour more if he'd wanted more. He was still again. She poured herself a more modest but still bracing drink and gulped it down in two.

They didn't speak the rest of the night. They stayed on the couch, drinking until oblivion finally came for Stefan. Caroline set their glasses and the bottle aside and stayed to doze by his side. He was gone when she awoke. There was a chenille throw covering her and a small pillow under her head that she hadn't put there. He must have done that. She felt a small twinge of hope that his humanity was still intact, hurt for sure, but not turned off. It was a small thing but she held onto it.

The room was still in disarray. She debated starting to set it to rights or going in search of Stefan. The latter seemed most prudent. Perhaps he was just upstairs in his bed. She listened for any sign of another's presence, heard nothing. A room by room search was next. There was no sign of him. His bed was not slept in unless he'd made it again, doubtful. His shower and sink were dry. There were no clothes from yesterday left anywhere from changing. She tried his phone. It went straight to voicemail. She checked for his car. It was in the garage.

She was not officially worried. Hoping he'd just gone on a hunt, she helped herself to a blood bag then busied herself with cleaning up the library as she waited for, hoped for, his return.

Stefan had gone on a hunt, in a way, a hunt for relief from the pain. _How could they?_ This was the recurring thought driving him, like a knife stabbing every time it came around. The liquor, despite the quantity consumed, could not keep him down for the night. He woke just a few hours after passing out sitting on the couch with Caroline at his side. She'd been keeping watch, he knew, but had eventually succumbed to sleep or the booze or both. It was good she was there. She tempered him, kept him from completely losing it. If she hadn't been, who knows what he would have done. He may have gotten in his car and headed to the lake to kill Damon. Maybe he'd have calmed down on the drive, but not likely.

He felt sick, like he wanted to vomit, it was the closest description he could think of for the darkness that wanted to come spitting forth like expletives from a Tourette's patient. He replaced his thigh with a pillow under Caroline's head, brought a throw over her, and then took in the modest damage he'd done to the room. It was disproportionately limited to what he'd really wanted to do.

He grabbed what was left of the bourbon and walked to the front door. Once outside, he stood leaning against the brick retaining wall blocking the lawn from the driveway. He took a long pull from the bottle and thought, "Early hair of the dog…" thinking it might offset any potential hangover later. Looking up at the night sky, he remembered he was standing exactly where they'd first kissed, Elena and him, the night of the comet. He let out a half-cry, half-laugh at the realization. He nearly smashed the bottle against the wall but thought better of it. Better to drink it, drink it all down, and drown the angry monster inside.

When he finally set the bottle down, nearly empty, on the wall, he set it right where she'd been sitting, when they had kissed. He walked away letting the booze seep through him, warm him, and sicken him from downing it so fast. He headed toward the woods. Reaching the path, he broke into a run. The path was soon gone. He didn't bother to avoid thickets, brambles, and low branches, just ran straight on through them, allowing them to knick and cut at his clothes, his skin. The little pricks of pain were somehow comforting even if barely noticeable. He realized he'd run in a circle at one point and turned to again distance himself from Mystic Falls. He was a number of counties away when he stopped suddenly, hands bracing against his knees.

He could still see _them_, in his mind, together, his love, his lover, and his brother. He'd love to scream, swear, and explode with expletives raged into the night sky, so he did. He shot upright and roared his rage into the night. If anyone had heard him, they'd have run for their lives. The scream wasn't enough. He saw a dying tree that looked damaged by a storm. He took it down, by hand, forced it over to the ground, roaring at it like he was ordering it to die. He collapsed then, a cry in his throat laced with the ache of a broken heart. He stayed sprawled against the felled tree until giving in to gravity. He rolled to his back on the ground and looked up through the trees at the night sky unsure with whom he was most angry.

A few minutes passed as he calmed slightly. The hairs on his neck suddenly were alert. He wasn't alone anymore. He listened hard trying to decipher what his intuition was picking up. He sat up quietly and suddenly picked up the scent, deer. How was there a deer in the area that didn't flee after all the noise he'd made? He was down wind so the deer hadn't smelled him. Then he smelled it. The deer was injured. This would be an easy hunt.

Stefan was on the deer in a flash due to its previous injury. A part of him was almost pleased that the deer was already injured. It was not going to survive its injury anyway, so he could have at it without guilt. He drank his fill as the animal's heart raced and pumped its life force into his mouth and down his throat. He was just about to drop the deer as the last beats of its heart subsided when another noise startled him.

Suddenly, a mountain lion was charging him from one direction and someone else was blocking and tackling the beast from another direction. Long dark hair was flailing as the unsuspected protector was suddenly there with arms encircling the lion before bringing it down. "A little help?" she cried out trying to hold the animal down alive.

"What?" He'd wanted to say "_Elena?"_ but couldn't. He was still confused as to what was happening.

She was struggling to keep the lioness from clawing her. She bit out, "It was tracking the deer. If you are still hungry, get your ass over here."

Finally he understood. He vamp-sped and helped pin the animal down and bit into its neck. He savored a second dinner that would help keep his strength up exponentially higher than rabbit or squirrel. Eventually, the lioness lost her will to fight and Stefan alone could control her. His protector stepped away, giving him room to finish. She sat back against a tree and watched without judgment. She took out a small bottle of quality bourbon, cracked the seal, and took a sip as she watched.

When he was finished, he wiped his mouth and turned to look at her. She held out the bourbon in offering. Slowly he got up, walked over and sat down, his back against the same tree. He took the bourbon, raised it in a quick mock toast to the sky, and took a long swig before handing it back.

After a bit of silence, both of them looking back toward the downed deer and lion, she spoke. "Feel better?"

He let out a sigh. "Yes, actually." He turned to glance at her profile but it hurt too much so he looked away. "How long have you been following me?"

"Since the house. I think I woke you. It was an accident."

"Why were you there?"

"To make sure you were going to be ok."

He looked confused, "Why would you care?"

"You know why."

"How did you know?"

"Stefan, you should know better than to ask. I just didn't know exactly when you would know."

"Fine, so you know I know. You can see I'm fine, well I survived the news. So, you can go now."

"That's the thanks I get for keeping you from being ambushed while you fed on Bambi?"

"Well, you did bring better bourbon than I had…" he said reaching for the bottle.

She smirked and said, "I know right, thank you."

He took the bottle and toasted her in thanks before talking another long pull but not giving it back. He sat quietly for a few minutes.

"So, now, why are you really here, Katherine?"

She sighed but didn't speak.

"Yes, yes, because you love me, right…." he said shaking his head.

"Stefan, what is the one thing you absolutely know for sure about me?"

"You will always save yourself, whatever the cost or harm to others."

"Yes, and where is Klaus right now? Or any other Original for that matter?"

"Here or close by."

"And what does that tell you, Stefan?"

"You want it to tell me that you are here for me regardless of your safety."

She didn't answer. She turned to look at his profile. She held out her hand for the bottle, took it when he extended his hand, took a swig before handing it back to him. She got up readying to leave. "I'll be around, Stefan, if you need anything." She was gone in a flash.

Stefan just rolled his eyes at her latest effort to wheedle her way into his life again and finished the bottle right there in the woods taking in the view of his kills, the woods, the stars in the sky.

Stefan made his way back to the boarding house. Caroline had left him a note on his bedroom door about Tyler needing her. He texted her to tell her he was fine, had hunted, and was crashing for a few hours. He thought he might actually sleep once he'd showered off the animal scents he still carried.

Once in bed, he stayed focused on contemplating Katherine's presence and if it could have any further implication. It was safer to focus on her than on the main crushing issue that would make him toss and turn and wallow in the disloyalty of those he loved.

He woke hours later. Lounging for a while, he tried to fall back to the oblivion of sleep. He didn't want to think about it. He got up to throw on some jeans and a shirt before venturing out. Maybe he'd clean up the library and check the damage he'd done as a distraction.

Coming downstairs, he sensed someone in the house. He stopped still near the bottom steps. "I'm in here," she called. He grimaced before seeing her sitting in the main lounge reading. "I brought the rest of the bourbon I'd bought. I thought you might need to restock." He didn't speak. She kept reading.

Running hands through his hair he went to the new bottle, cracked the seal, and poured a drink thinking he might as well continue. He sat across from her, still not speaking, just watching her read and waiting for her to slip up. She kept reading until, feeling his eyes on her, she looked up at him as if anticipating a question from him. "Did you need something?" she asked. He didn't answer. Without even looking up again, she spoke. "The answer to your question remains the same. But you won't believe me so why should we waste the time and energy? So I'm just going to keep reading until you need something that I can provide." She turned a page and continued reading.

It wasn't lost on him that she had a rather ironic collection of leather bound books from poets and authors strewn about her. They included poets and novelists from varying times and places, each in some way addressing unrequited love included Edmond Rostand's _Cyrano de Bergerac_, Dante's _La Vita Nuova_, Dickens' _Great Expectations_, and the one in her hand, Catullus' Carmina. Stefan got up and stopped in front of her. He picked up the Dickens, looked at it, looked at her. She shrugged. "I like to read common themes together." He dropped the Dickens and went to get another drink.

He spent the rest of the day in his room, away from her, with one of the bottles she'd brought. He was good and blotto by midafternoon. He was writing, if you could call it that. He was intermittently raging then pouring out his heartache into his latest journal. When he got a text from Damon, he lost it. His glass flew across the room, crashing into tiny broken shards and leaving a trail of bourbon down the wall.

Katherine was there in a flash. She looked at him sitting at his desk then at the damage. While he looked completely abysmal, she assessed that he was not injured physically, she got a hand towel from the bath and cleaned up the broken glass and wasted bourbon. She came back into the room with a glass of water and a fresh empty glass. She set both on the desk and poured a refill of bourbon for him. She left the bottle and headed out of the room saying, "Throw the water next time." He smirked at her.

Later Caroline called. He didn't answer. He texted her instead. _I'm fine, well, you know. Don't want to talk. Maybe tomorrow. Will let you know. _ She'd just have to respect that. Besides, he'd likely be slurring at her by this time.

He was getting tired of his room. He ventured out. She was still there. She'd fallen asleep reading one of her many selections. She stirred when he coughed. "What? What is it? You ok?" she said as she came to.

"Wh, why are you still here, Katherine?" he slurred at her.

"Does it matter, Stefan? I'm here." She sat more upright, full awake now. "What can I do to help?"

"Why do you want to help? What do you want?" he asked, frustrated at her kindness which must be for a secret purpose.

"Stefan, I know you won't believe me but you insist on asking…I know what it's like to have the love of your life turn to someone else. I also understand betrayal and yes I know, not just because I've inflicted it. But you Salvatores have a way of damaging each other even more than I ever could. Frankly, when I suspected the sire bond, I was worried."

He scoffed at her.

"I was, because I knew what the ultimate betrayal might do to you. Not Elena's betrayal."

"Don't you say her name!"

"It's Damon's betrayal I mean. This, I fear, could just drive you over the edge. I don't want that to happen. So, I'm here. I'm here to help in whatever way I can. You won't believe me, but it's true, I'm stuck with my feelings for you, unrequited though they might be at present. But I'm not going to let this thing ruin you. No one likes you when you are an emotionless dick, not even me. So now scoff at me, do your worst. Make me the target of your anger if you want. But if you don't need something from me, I'm going to go back to reading and probably falling asleep if that's alright with you. Don't worry; I'll be gone in a few days when I'm sure you are going to get through this." She sat back trying to get comfortable again. "You know what, better yet, I'm hungry." She got up to pilfer their supply of blood bags.

Stefan grabbed her arm as she passed. He stared at her hard trying to read any signs.

"What?" she asked a bit gruffly. He just released her arm and watched her leave.

She returned with a glass of warmed blood and took her seat. Stefan, meanwhile, had settled on the couch across from her again. Oddly, this was better than being alone in his room. They didn't speak. He'd grabbed the copy of _Gone with the Wind_ from the pile Katherine had selected and thumbed through it. He'd read it before, knew it well in fact. He fell asleep of course, lying on his back, and was snoring loudly. Katherine got up and set aside his drink before it spilled. She picked up his book and before she closed it, made a note of what chapter he'd been reading. She smiled.

She gave him a nudge. "Stefan,…Stefan…you're snoring like a jack hammer…." He barely stirred but stopped snoring for the moment. She sat back down again and of course, he started snoring again moments later. She let out of huffing sigh, got up and used her knee to nudge him. "Stefan, seriously?"

He rolled toward her, falling off the couch. She caught his shoulders but his knees landed with a thud. He groaned, only slightly coherent and tried to get up. She helped him to standing. "Stefan, come on, I'm going to get you upstairs to bed." He mumbled something but let her help him up to standing and lead him up to his room. She lined him up with his bed and pushed him lightly down onto it. He flopped down with a bounce or two on the mattress. She lifted his legs to the bed and removed his shoes. She figured he'd be fairly comfortable staying dressed but thought the belt should go. He tried to swat her hand away when he felt a tug but his hand just fell down lifeless after the failed attempt. "Don't worry, Stefan, I'm not interested in sex right now. You reek like a corn mash distillery." She continued to mumble under her breath as she walked away, "…And you probably have whiskey dick anyway." She turned off all but one lamp leaving him in near dark.

She stopped in the doorway to look back at him. Asleep and quiet, he looked just like he did in 1864 after they'd had sex and he'd sleep. He'd been such a sweet boy then, still was in his heart she could tell. There was nothing to do now but let him sleep it off. Turning to leave, she noticed his journal on a table. The ink was dark, thick, and his handwriting was more dramatic than usual, almost chaotic. She stepped back into the room to take the journal with her. She reasoned that she was still Katherine, no matter how kind she was being to Stefan, she would benefit from the insights she'd glean from prying into his dribble. Maybe she could even help him over this sooner if she read it.

She picked Damon's room for herself first, but then thought better of it when she picked up on Elena's scent. The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of Elena…or did she…She debated a moment. No, it was the scene of the crime, no doubt, and likely still had the same sheets, ick.

She took the guest room and left the door open and the light on. If he got up, he'd at least know she was there for him. She read for a good long while, completely enthralled. This wasn't the dribble she expected, all love and heartbreak. There was rage here, unadulterated rage, and incredible pain. Oh the things he wanted to do to them, both of them, in his heated craving for revenge. Sure it was just words and he'd likely never act on them, at least not with Elena, Damon maybe, but never the sacred Elena.

It read like she was reading some kind of deviant novel written by the Ripper of Mystic Falls. She closed the journal rather surprised at this side of Stefan. Sure she'd known about the Ripper's ways, but that wasn't really Stefan. That was a blood crazed addict, a dick. She also knew the other extreme Stefan, the real Stefan, sweet, kind, protective, loving, and more. But this…She really didn't think he was capable of this kind of anger. She'd thought she'd seen him rage at her. This was more. This was guttural, gut-wrenching, and visceral in its raw desire to injure and cause pain. She expected he needed a shoulder, a friend, a kick out of a depression to ensure he didn't turn it all off. This was different. So now what?

She heard a thud from Stefan's room follow by cursing. She went to him. Standing in his doorway, she could see he was trying to get out of his jeans. "Stefan, sit down before you break something else." He fell back to sitting on the mattress.

"Get out, Katherine," he groaned.

"Shut up," she said as she pulled one pant leg off for him, then the other. She tossed them aside. "Would you like that shirt off?"

"Ha, I'm sure _you_ would…" he tried to say cockily but it sounded more like a bad pick up line from a town drunk.

"Stefan,.." she said exasperated. "You aren't any good to me like this and you know it. Now raise your arms." He did as instructed and she pulled his shirt overhead. He leaned back, his arms bracing him from collapsing backward. He tried to look sexy. "Pfffsh, Stefan, don't be ridiculous. You look ridiculous. Now go back to sleep." She turned to leave.

She was halfway to the door when he softly said, "Thank you." She smiled without looking back.

A couple hours later, she'd been asleep for a bit when she was startled awake. She heard Stefan raging at someone down in the main lounge. She sped downstairs and found him alone, in his boxer briefs, with a newly cracked open bottle in hand. He was talking to someone who wasn't there.

"Hope it was good for you! I'm sure he fucked you so good! No, no, I'm sure he told you exactly what to do and you did it didn't you!" He took another deep swig.

"Stefan. Stefan!" She'd had to call him twice to get him to focus on her. "Put the bottle down, Stefan. You've had enough. It's not helping you."

He charged as few steps toward her and shouted. "You don't know. You don't know what I feel." He started to drink again. She sped over to him, took the bottle from him and sped back to replace the cap on the bottle. "Hey!"

"I do know, Stefan, and you've been downing your sorrows enough."

He stepped closer to her, sneering at her as he spoke slurring now and then. "Kat, you don't have half the heart you think you do. You can't know... To have your brother _fuck _the love of your life…to have her _want_ to fuck him…"

She stared at him. She'd never get him to understand how wrong he was, certainly not while he was completely annihilated. He was going to believe what he believed about her no matter what. "Fine, Stefan, let's assume I haven't experienced this kind of betrayal. Fine. Let's focus on you." She paused. "I read your journal."

"What else is new…" he said flippantly, not thinking about his most recent entries spewed forth while high on bourbon. He stepped away from her, moving toward the liquor again.

"I mean the one you just wrote,…about _them_…"

He stopped in his tracks and turned toward her sneering. "Did it turn you on, Kat? Did you like the idea of me tearing apart the people I love?"

"It made me think that there's another way for you to get the satisfaction you need without killing your brother or hurting her."

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

"Me."

He didn't mean to but he looked her up and down quickly, checking her out. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant.

"Use me, Stefan."

He let out a scoffing sound and headed back to the booze. Her words stopped him from pouring another.

"Use me, for no other reason than to let it out. I know it won't mean anything more to you. I'll still be leaving here soon."

He was standing there, quite still, debating, thinking how much better he'd feel fucking hard into someone, hard enough to inflict pain along with pleasure. He could do that to Katherine easily except for not wanting her at all. He didn't even think he'd get hard for her. But a surrogate that he could take with wild abandon, the thought was appealing, almost freeing. He shook himself out of his momentary weakness and again reached for the booze.

"I'm sure Damon wouldn't mind…since he's probably with…"

He was in her face so quickly, his hands around her neck, choking her. His fierce stare bore into her eyes, her face and body completely passive, not a hint of resistance. She remained calm with her hands loose at her sides, and let him nearly break her neck.

When he eased up on her throat, she said it again. "Use me, Stefan. I'm giving you permission. Hurt me. Let it out."

He grabbed her long hair and pulled her head back at an awkward angle. He hissed at her. "You are not her."

"No. She's with him."

His hand in her hair, he pulled her down harder, forcing her to her knees. He didn't let go just pressed her close to his groin. She took her queue and released him from his boxers. She inwardly groaned knowing she had her work cut out for her due to the bourbon. Then again, after a few minutes, he was rebounding nicely. It was certainly a perk being trapped in a seventeen-year-old body that she remembered so well.

His eyes were closed, head tilted back, not wanting to watch, to see his love's likeness. But it was pointless. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see her, Elena, with him, with his brother. The vision made him thrust harder down Katherine's throat, wrapping his hand tighter into her hair as he forced her to take him completely. This was not going to be pleasurable for her, he was sure of it. But she'd told him to, gave him permission to let the monster out.

She was holding her own though, despite the rough treatment. Her fingers lightly tickled at him, his balls, his ass, and his thighs. She still remembered what he liked even though this was rougher than they'd ever done before. She thought he would cum soon, but in this she was wrong. Instead, he roughly pulled her off him by her hair and pulled her up to standing. "Take off your clothes," he ordered gruffly. She was naked in a flash.

Again he grabbed at her hair and pulled her against him. His free hand accosted her breasts, one then the other. Bruises appeared then disappeared as he manhandled her. She remained pliant to his needs. He brought her head to his chest and again she took the queue. She lightly kissed and licked the sensitive skin of his chest. No, he didn't want tender. He pressed her lips harder against him saying, "harder, bite…" She brought forth her fangs and bit his flesh, not too deep, not to draw much blood, just to inflict the sting. She added her nails across his back, digging into his skin and elicited another low growling hiss.

He remembered Damon had shared his blood with Elena. They probably still did, reveling in each other. He suddenly pulled her up to his neck and said it again, "Bite!" She did as she was told. He held her there, made her drink from him, made her bite him again until he gruffly pulled her off him.

He spun her around. With a hand at her hip, the other on her back, he forced her to bend over. She was bent like a jackknife, legs straight, body perpendicular to the floor. She could just brace her hands on the armrest of the couch. He spread her feet further apart with his foot prodding her. In a flash, he took her from behind, plunging into her tight warmth and wetness, thrusting hard and fast. He held onto her hips with a bruising grip as the sounds of skin slapping skin echoed in the room. He pounded into her with a body numbing speed and force. He growled at the intensity.

She began to moan involuntarily. This wasn't supposed to be about her. She certainly knew she'd given herself to him for the purpose of him releasing his anger, but not for any pleasure for her. It might be a side benefit that she'd enjoy some of it, but she'd been attempting to simply allow him to do whatever he wanted and keep her reactions to herself.

When he heard her, she knew instinctively that he didn't like it, didn't want to hear her. It would bring him back to the present, to what he, they were doing, or worse yet, make him think of Elena's moans of pleasure. He pumped harder and plunged his thumb into her back door as he held on to her. She hissed uncomfortably. He removed it only to plunge two the second time. She tried not to give voice to it but a wincing grunt escaped her lips.

He decided to change things up and pushed her into lying face down on the couch. He kneeled between her legs and pulled back a little on her hips to angle her upwards to meet him. Again, he thrust into her from behind, giving her the pounding of a man emotionally lost and angrily depraved. He still hadn't cum. It could have been the bourbon. It could have been his mind continually drifting to thoughts of Elena that would lead to thoughts of _them_. Maybe it was both the heart-crushing agony and the seething, ferocious animal inside him…and the bourbon.

She began to think this had gone on long enough. He might let his emotions keep him from finishing and dissolve into a basket case again. She goaded him one last time to get him to let it all out.

"Do it, Stefan. I know you want to. I read the journal, remember? I know what you want to do to them, hurt them, fuck them into the hell they put you through. Do it. I can take it," she hissed. She'd had her hand collecting moisture from between her legs. She brought her fingers to her hole to prep at least slightly for him.

He let out a cry, a mix of an angry roar and a scream as he slipped from her pussy and pushed into her ass. He was in to the hilt in one thrust. She gasped with her mouth and eyes wide at the shock and pain. Any damage was healed instantly as he thrust into her. He didn't take much longer, being encased in that dark heat, that tightness beyond tightness. Katherine couldn't help but work her clit to ease the combination of pleasure and pain she was enduring for his benefit. He moaned in almost a crying sound as he worked to finish, in and out, in and out, oh so tight. Finally, he came letting out a roar to the gods. She came quietly when he did. He didn't even likely realize, so absorbed in his own anguish as he was. He collapsed on top of her. She knew he was trying to hide it but she was sure she felt hot tears trickle down her shoulder where he'd landed.

He slid out of her unceremoniously and moved back up to his knees. He looked at her lying there for a moment, completely ravaged, then got up, turned away and left the room in a mix of disgust and relief.

She left a note.

_Stefan,_

_Having submitted to you gives me the privilege of the last word. (And yes, I'm fine oh great guilt-ridden one.)_

_Let it go. The anger, the hurt, all of it. No matter what happens, you will love them. It is your nature to be good, kind, loving. It won't happen overnight, but you will move past this, maybe a little quicker now._

_It's on you now, to pick yourself up and go forward. I did what I could for you. I wouldn't be me if I let last night happen again. Once was enough. I hope it was enough for you to see - you are not that man. You are not brutal and dismissive. You were angry, hurt. Now get over it, soon._

_Love, Katherine_


End file.
